


With Your Peculiar Mouth

by justhush (fragilehuge)



Series: When I Am King [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, again this is in a universe where Merlin is a sex slave, so there's still a warning for allusions to past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilehuge/pseuds/justhush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kiss me again, please, if you want,” Arthur pleads, forcing himself not to think. It’s better when he doesn’t think. “Whatever you want.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Your Peculiar Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2010! I doubt anyone still reads Merlin fic, but I wanted to post to AO3 for archival purposes.
> 
> Original author's notes:
> 
> A continuation of [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6232282). You’ll need to read that to understand this fic. For hc_bingo on LJ, wildcard prompt ( _sort of_ "build-up of work related trauma" if we were supposed to pick a prompt for the wildcard). Looked over by restless_jedi. Remaining mistakes are my own (please point them out!) The title is E.E Cummings.

“Come on,” Merlin says coyly. “I know you want to kiss me.” He’s pressed into Arthur’s space, so close that all Arthur can see are cheek bones and eyelashes, the curve of his nose pressed to Arthur’s cheek.

And the problem is that he’s _right_.

“Merlin.” Arthur tries not to sound desperate. “Please step back.”

Merlin is insufferable. He pushes forward, pinning Arthur to the wall. He tips his head and brushes his lips against Arthur’s, just a touch, like a challenge, and Merlin _never_ listens to directions. Arthur keeps wanting to say no, but it doesn’t matter because this is the third time this week that _this_ has happened and it seems like all Arthur ever does is _want_. He wants what he cannot take. Of course he does, though, _of course_ the one thing Arthur shouldn’t want to take, the one thing he could never live with himself if he--it’s all Arthur can do not to surge forward and take all of Merlin’s clothes off, the way everyone in the castle thinks he does already, and then-- _fuck_ , in all his internal debate Arthur never pushed Merlin away and now he’s sliding his tongue across Arthur’s lips, and maybe Arthur isn’t sure he likes this cocky, fearless thing that Merlin’s become, the one who’ll _take_ what he wants without any regard for what Arthur is _ordering him to do_ \--but surely Merlin’s earned the right to take what he wants--and that thought makes Arthur seize up with fear, with Merlin’s tongue in his mouth and Arthur is kissing him back, taking even though he doesn’t have the right, but Arthur _wants_ and what does that make him? How many times has someone taken what they wanted from Merlin? Arthur isn’t any better than them and it isn’t Merlin’s fault but it feels like it _is_ , what with Merlin kissing him in the first place--

“Get off of me,” Arthur yells, shoving Merlin away. He stumbles backwards and hits the wall, groaning, and now Arthur’s _hurt him_ , he feels like a monster--he _is_ a monster and how could Merlin trust him when he can’t trust himself?

“Hey,” Merlin is saying, but Arthur can’t think, can’t _stop_ thinking, and Merlin’s touching him, doesn’t look so much hurt as confused, but he grabs Arthur’s jaw. “ _Hey_ ,” he repeats, forcing Arthur to look at him.

They just breathe for a minute.

“What was that about?” Merlin finally asks quietly. “We were kissing and then you freaked out.”

Arthur is such a bloody _prick._ He and Merlin have _done this before_ , enough times that it isn’t really new except for how it always feels new to Arthur. He never said anything before, though, and he shouldn't have now because he doesn’t have the _right_ to freak out. It’s stupid, Arthur knows it’s stupid, but every time they _do this_ \--stumble into a empty room or a crook in a hallway--something in Arthur’s chest tightens, it makes him feel scared and nauseous but he shouldn’t. He _shouldn’t_ feel that way, because when has he _ever_ had any problems? He’s the golden prince born with a jeweled fucking spoon in his mouth. He should just give Merlin what he wants, because certainly Merlin deserves that, at _least_ that; he deserves whatever Arthur can give and Arthur wants to give him everything.

“See, you’re doing it again,” Merlin says. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Come on, you can kiss me again.”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, running a hand down Arthur’s cheek--his eyes are full of compassion Arthur doesn’t deserve, shouldn't want, but he can’t stop staring in Merlin’s eyes, taking everything he can get.

“Please,” Arthur says, begging for Merlin to drop it, because Arthur can’t bear to say it out loud. He has nothing to be upset about and every second Merlin looks at him with those eyes makes Arthur feel worse. Merlin tugs him close, and at least Arthur can’t see him looking anymore. Merlin’s hand stroking through his hair is worse, somehow. “I just--”

“Hmm?” Merlin hums, so fucking perfect, everything Arthur wants, and why should he get Merlin when Merlin didn’t have anyone? How is that fair? How can Arthur ever look in the mirror again when he takes advanta--

“Kiss me again, please, if you want, ” Arthur pleads, forcing himself not to think. It’s better when he doesn’t think. “Whatever you want.”

“I _want_ you to tell me what you’re upset about,” Merlin insists, completely earnest, and Arthur isn’t so selfish that he can’t give Merlin that.

“I just--I don’t have any reason to be--I don’t have the right to be so upset, not after what you’ve--not when there are so many people worse off--”

“Arthur,” Merlin interrupts, sounding almost angry. “You always have the _right_ to be upset. It doesn’t matter what’s happened to anyone else--Look at me, hey, _Arthur_ \--”

But Arthur can’t--he doesn’t want to listen to this, because Merlin’s just trying to make him feel better, the stupid things you say to calm someone down--that doesn’t mean it’s _true_.

“--But I want, and it’s not fair, not when I have-- not for you, I don’t have any _right_ to want anything of you, to ask anything, but I keep wanting more, and I don’t know how to stop--I want to _blame you_ , sometimes, when I’m thinking, when I’m scared, but my weaknesses are my own and I don’t have the right--”

“ _Stop it_ ,” Merlin says, low and dangerous and Arthur listens. His heart is pounding and he wants to pull away when Merlin touches him, when Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur and whispers in his ear: “You have every right to be scared. _I’m_ scared. And when I freak out you’ll hold me and tell me that it’s going to be alright, I know you will; you _have_ already. Why can’t you let me do the same?”

“You have a reason to freak out,” Arthur insists, grasping onto Merlin even though he knows he should let go.

“So do you,” Merlin says, and _of course_ he would say that: he’s Merlin, stupidly _good_ and naïve even after all he’s been through. “Would I lie to you? So do you.”

Arthur caught between what he knows is true and his trust in Merlin. He tries to say that, but what comes out is, “I can’t--I know that isn’t-- _Merlin_ , I can’t--” Arthur cuts himself off, forcing his breathing even. He needs to calm down. He needs to _calm down_. Merlin pushes Arthur away to hold him at arms length. He looks at Arthur seriously, and Arthur can’t bring himself to break eye contact, even though he wants to.

“You’ve got to trust me,” Merlin says. “I trust you.”

“ _How_?” Arthur hates how strangled he sounds, how revealing that break in his voice is, but he needs to know, can’t imagine Merlin could trust anyone--much less _Arthur_ , who could take advantage of him without anyone even blinking, who could _legally_ beat Merlin to death, who could--Arthur is jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of Merlin’s laughter. Arthur stares, doesn’t know how to react, doesn’t know if he missed something--

“Are you really asking me that?” Merlin asks. “You’re--you’re _you_. You’re the most bloody honourable man I know.”

Arthur stares, and Merlin says, “Gods, that’s what this is about? How could you think I don’t trust you?”

It seems obvious to Arthur.

“I want to--I want to--I would sneak around with you and treat you like a _whore_. I’d be as bad as them, I’d be--I’d be proving that is what you’re supposed to be, and everyone would see and know and I couldn’t do _that_ , I can’t make you that. I will not.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything for a long time, but his lips twitch into a smile, finally, _finally_ and Arthur doesn’t care that he doesn’t understand the reaction, because at least it doesn’t seem like Merlin hates him.

“You’re so bloody _noble_.” Merlin mutters it like an insult, but he’s still smiling. “How do I even react to that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to react to anything.” Arthur rubs his face with his hands, tired suddenly. “I don’t know what to do about how I feel about you.”

The admission is the honest truth, more revealing than Arthur would like, but he wants Merlin to understand. That isn’t such a horrible thing to want.

“I really want to kiss you,” Merlin says eventually. “But I know you don’t want to, so--”

“I want to kiss you,” Arthur interrupts, because Merlin is dreadfully, dreadfully wrong if he thinks that’s the case. “I just want to do it _properly._ ”

Arthur feels embarrassed after he says that, but Merlin is shaking his head, disbelieving and smiling just a little.

“Some day you will,” he says. “Do you remember what you said to me when I told you about my family?”

Arthur remembers. He said a lot of things that night, though, but nothing in his memory sticks out as particularly relevant.

“We were outside by the fire and the rest of your men were asleep. I half expected that you would finally--I mean, we were alone in the woods and your men were asleep and you wanted to _talk-_ -That was when I realized, you know. You said, ‘Things will be different when I am king.’ I believed you.”

Arthur slides his hand into Merlin’s and squeezes. He doesn’t know if that’s an appropriate response, if it says enough, but it’s all he can think to do.

“I still believe you,” Merlin repeats, and squeezes back.

It says enough.


End file.
